


Bigger Fish

by misura



Category: Gentleman Bastard Sequence - Scott Lynch
Genre: Gen, Pre-Lies of Locke Lamora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, Locke kind of wishes for someone to come and beat up Jean. (Most days, he's smarter than that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bigger Fish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janiejanine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janiejanine/gifts).



There were moments when Locke found it hard not to resent the fact that, in any situation that included the element of violence, Jean would be the one left standing in the end.

He appreciated that Jean had learned how to patch people up, and that, without exception, his would be the injuries Jean would attend to first. That last, too, brought with it a certain resentment on occasion; Locke knew that Jean worried for him in a way he would not worry about someone like, say, Galo or Caldo, who usually had each other's backs anyway.

"You know," said Locke, wincing a little as Jean cleaned a painful but shallow cut on Locke's arm, "one of these days, we'll run into someone who's going to pound _you_ into the ground."

Jean did not chuckle, or call Locke a liar. "Possibly."

Perversely, this answer made Locke want to reach out and give Jean a good shaking, followed by the assurance that _of course_ no one was ever going to beat Jean the way just about everyone they met seemed to be able to beat _him_.

"I just want you to know, if that ever happens, I'm going to run like hell and leave you to it."

Jean nodded solemnly. "That's probably smart."

Locke searched Jean's expression for some hint of amusement, some small indication that Jean was anything less than sincere. The fact that he didn't find any did not, of course, mean that Jean _was_ being sincere, merely that Jean's skills at false-facing were approaching Locke's own.

"And then after, I'm going to come back and kick you in your ugly face and _laugh_."

"Well," said Jean, tying the bandage around Locke's arm with a firm knot, "I imagine in that case, you'll die laughing. Suppose that's as happy a death as anyone could hope for."

"Bastard."

Jean's smile was very faint. "Liar. You might run like hell, but you'd take their purses first."

"And maybe stick a knife or two in them," admitted Locke. "Gods. I need a drink. It can't be healthy to get this maudlin without being at least a little drunk."

"Well, nothing more I can do for you right now." Jean slapped his good shoulder. "Just drinks?"

"No, Jean. I'm going to cheat at cards with only one functioning arm."

"Nothing wrong with your mouth, anyway," said Jean. "Or your head. Consider it a challenge."

"Sure I could," said Locke. "Or I could choose not to be the kind of fucking idiot who gets goaded into doing some stupid gods-damned thing because his no-good friend dares him. Guess which option I pick?"

"Being injured really makes you dull company."

"Well, some of us require physical harm to get there. Others are just naturally gifted in that department."


End file.
